Sunday, November 22, 2015

A Magical Day

   This weekend I took a ride out the East End of Long Island. The weather is turning colder, the leaves are at their last show of color. I felt the need to get away and de-stress.

Kings Point Road

   So with my camera in hand I jumped in the car and drove out to the Hamptons, to where our former summer bungalow sat on a hill, with a small creek in the back yard. It was not as busy as summer, and I was able to park and walk the beach where my brothers and I played and where I learned to officially swim.
 








 Of course it has been many years and things have changed alot. Many new houses, all kinds of new trees and plants, with sea grass and cattails over ten feet tall. But some of the patterns remained. The way the wind came from the north, whipping up the waves in Gardiner's Bay, and the way the water and wind eroded the beach as it did every summer. And in the corner of the beach came the beginnings of piles of sea shells, washed up against the rock jetty at the entrance to the inlet that led to the creek.

   I walked, I sat, I smelled the wind and the salt and savored the colors of the sky and sea, so many different shades of blue. I felt parts of me I had lost or forgotten as a child, and so happy to have them back.

  I took a walk up the hill from the beach to our house. It was different now, the See-More house, for all its glass walls had long been replaced by weathered brown shingles, and a huge wrap around deck replaced our front porch where Gram used to sit in her chair and watch the neighbors go by. We had built the bungalow in 1959, built it into the hill. We took our old station wagon and rode up and down the streets gathering rocks to build our rock wall that still stands there today to keep the hill intact. Down the hill you can see the dock we built with the boat slip.

   Now it is mostly hidden by trees when originally it was all open, with views of sea and sky. I walked further down the hill on the other side of the house, remembering how many times I had fallen off my bike on that hill, skinning my knees time and time again. How I rode through the maze of streets, through the woods, down to the mailboxes that lined the entrance of our development, the wind in my hair and salt in my eyes and mouth.

   I drank it all in and captured those memories, which seemed to be a part of my DNA. It was a warm and comforting feeling, and I had expected to be sad, but it was nothing like that.

   As I turned to walk back up the hill and past the house again, suddenly this beautiful golden retriever came trotting up the driveway to greet me. He was wet, obviously he had just been in the creek. So I petted his head and spoke to him as though he would understand me and I told him, this was my house once and I lived here and my family built this house where you now live. He looked up with those beautiful eyes and wagged his tail as though he seemingly understood. I just laughed thinking myself foolish, but hoped he understood.

   I went back to the car and when I drove away he was gone.

Hog Creek Lane

   So I drove to other parts of the woods and tried to find the old trail that used to lead from behind our house and into the woods. When I would wake up in the morning, the Sun would be rising full on in my bedroom window and I could see the deer in the field next to us. They would go up and down that trail. I thought I found the spot where the trail once led and parked the car to take some pictures. it looked like a primeval forest, overgrown, but quiet and majestic all the same. When I went back to the car, a young fawn, not quite grown yet, scampered into the woods, making my visit complete.

   I drove to other seaside spots, just feeling the wind, watching the water and waves and currents, with the land having a sense of timelessness. Things moved on but in doing so lent some healing in its place, for it was even more beautiful here than I remembered. I then drove to the ocean and walked to the edge, buffeted by the wind, but at the same time it felt cleansing and restorative. We will heal you it said and I embraced the day and the elements in my heart.

   I thought about the world and its current state of despair, and thought to myself, when the world cries out in pain, do not worry, for I will offer you healing.

   Thank you for taking this journey with me.

Maery

The Ocean - East Hampton